Deeply Sown
by Nelui Wysteria
Summary: So it was for the first Longbottom who swore an unbreakable vow, as it would be for all of her descendants. Neville was tired of being bullied and pushed around, constantly underestimated by everyone around him but he is determined to prove himself. What happens when he discovers a strange being wandering around the abandoned corridors of Hogwarts Castle? TR/NL Creature Fic!
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Neville Longbottom peered out from the shadows of his dark alcove as laughter sounded down the dimly lit corridor. The last few stragglers from the end of the year feast were slowly making their way back to the dorms before their early departure the next morning. Honey colored eyes narrowed on the two students as one paused to whisper something conspiringly in the others ear causing them both to break out in peals of laughter once more before disappearing around the corner.

Neville sighed softly in relief before he emerged the the alcove. He walked stiffly down the corridor in the opposite direction of the students. Right now going back to his dorm room was not an option. All year he had put up with the ridicule of his peers. Since his first day they made fun of his forgetfulness and after that incident with Malfoy during Flying Lessons the bullying had only grown worse.

The young boy clenched his fist tightly around his wand, his knuckles turning white. No, not his wand. His father's wand. His Grandmother, Augusta, had given it to him the day after his Uncle had dropped him out the window to see if he had magic. They had been so proud when all he did was bounce a few times but Neville had never forgotten the malicious way his Uncle had smiled when he pretended to accidentally let go of his ankles. And that wasn't even the first time either. A few months before that Uncle Algie had pushed him off the pier knowing he couldn't swim and before THAT, he had- No, he didn't want to think about that.

When his Grandmother had given him the wand she had told him that his father was a very powerful wizard and did many great things. The look in her eyes was enough to show him that his Grandmother wasn't quite all there anymore as they stared right through him and into the memory of her long lost son. He had tried to prove himself though. Prove to his family and his classmates that he was a true Gryffindor and not the spineless dim creature they and his Uncle all seemed to think he was. But all of it backfired. Instead of saving his fellow housemates Headmaster Dumbledore saw fit to make a mockery of him in front of the entire school. After awarding the most points to the other three for breaking the rules of the school, the Headmaster had casually awarded him points as well, claiming it was for "courage".

What a load of bollocks that was.

"Courage indeed…" He murmured to himself as he walked down a staircase that led deeper into the heart of the castle.

The Headmaster had essentially announced to everyone in the school that he had all but snitched on his dorm mates. Potter, Weasley, and Granger had lost their house a lot of points throughout the year and were always being reckless and getting into trouble, breaking rules and endangering themselves and others. He had noticed Potter and Weasley sneaking out of bed and overheard their plan to investigate whatever was on the third floor. Neville recalled that Dumbledore had said whatever was up there could kill someone and Potter had already helped him with Malfoy. He had felt that he owed him a debt, so he had approached them to tell them how reckless and stupid they were being when the Granger girl petrified him leaving one of the Prefects to find him the next morning.

There were already whispers of his so-called betrayal all throughout the feast that night and watching as his fellow Gryffindors dubbed Potter, Weasley, and Granger as "The Golden Trio" made his stomach roil. He had pushed his food around his plate and taken a few sips of his pumpkin juice before he snuck out of the feast early. He had been wandering the halls ever since.

A breeze of warm earthy air caressed his face as he stepped through an archway into a secluded courtyard. The smell of night blooming flora thickened the air with its strong fragrances. Taking a deep breath he started identifying each by smell.

"Jasmine, Devils Trumpet, Honeysuckle, and…" he felt himself begin to slowly relax with each name, "Dusk Blooming Choke Vines." A small smile formed at the corners of his mouth.

He glanced around the courtyard walking slowly along the moonlit path. He wasn't worried about getting caught out past curfew. No one ever really roamed this far into the castle. In fact he had always thought it strange that more people didn't venture into the dusty forgotten parts of the school. Not even the ghosts explored beyond the main, well-known, rooms and corridors. He had to credit his discovery to his forgetfulness. During the first few days of classes he had been so lost that he chose the wrong moving staircase and ended up walking down a long empty corridor. He had quickly realized that such a large castle would have a lot of unused space. After about 3 hours of wandering around aimlessly he eventually found himself back in the main part of the school but not before he had discovered this beautiful garden.

Ever since that time he had been able to find the old parts of the castle easily even when he thought he was going to get lost. But he didn't explore further than the courtyard he had found that first day. It wasn't that the empty rooms and barren corridors scared him either. Rather it was the strange tugging sensation he always felt when he went too deep and walking away always seemed to leave a sharp tightness in his chest. Instead he had decided to keep to the now familiar corridor of rooms that led to his courtyard.

Loosening his tie he decided to lay down in the soft grass by some Moon Flowers, they gave off a light blue glow that illuminated his face softly and when the breeze hit their petals it caused them to tinkle like windchimes. The sound of them was a balm against his agitation and restless thoughts. Brushing his dark brunette hair out of his face and lifting his arms to rest under his head, he closed his eyes to let their music help him think.

His mind drifted back to his Grandmother. The old woman was quickly becoming senile and with her mind, her magic had begun to fail as well. It was during Yule break when his Grandmother had started to call him Frank, his father's name, and when he tried to tell her that he wasn't, that he was Neville her grandson, she grew confused and quickly agitated. The last time it had happened she threw a priceless bust of some long forgotten Longbottom at him while yelling obscenities. After that his Uncle had come in and started yelling at him for upsetting her and her "delicate" disposition. It was the Head Butler, Birch, who had discreetly ushered him to his own rooms and spent the rest of the evening keeping him company on his windowed balcony and his many plants.

Thinking of Birch made him smile. The man wasn't just a servant to Neville, he was like a guardian of sorts. After his Uncle had dropped him out the window Birch was the only one who had come rushing to him to see if he was alright. The worry and fear across the man's face had eased the pain of his Uncle's betrayal into a dull smarting pain rather that the sharp tightness that made him feel like his heart was going to explode. After that Birch had taken to keeping Neville as far away from his Uncle as possible and ran interference whenever his Uncle was particularly angry especially when Neville did something that wasn't to his Uncle's expectations.

Thoughts of expectations brought him right back to the turbulent anger of that night's events and he felt his magic seep into the air around him making the the Moon Flowers glow even brighter. They were just like his Uncle, cruel and twisted. They all wanted something from him and they were never pleased with what he had to give. He never really voiced it out loud but sometimes he wished he went to a different school than Hogwarts and he spent most of his classes slipping into daydreams of a place where professor Snape didn't rip into him for no reason or where he had his own room to himself. His Grandmother would never have it though, after all her son and his wife had attended Hogwarts and fallen in love here, she couldn't accept that Neville was any different. He may as well be a ghost in her eyes, haunting her and reminding her of the son she had lost.

Neville sighed restlessly as he rolled over to lay on his stomach, his cheek resting against his arms. He stared at the grass as it glittered in the moonlight with his every breath and as the warm breeze rustled the trees softly he found himself drifting off to sleep.

oOo

The train whistle blew loudly as they left the platform at Hogsmeade. Neville watched as Hagrid waved them off and the train began to pick up speed. He didn't bother to wave back. Hagrid wouldn't even notice. Turning back to the empty compartment he had managed to find he stared at the old upholstered seats world outside his compartment was rowdy with excited students ready to go home to their families. Neville sighed deeply. A melancholy had settled over him that he just couldn't shake.

"This one looks empty!" a female voice sounded outside his compartment before the door slid open.

Neville watched as a girl with short black hair leaned into the compartment. Behind him a few other Slytherin's peered over her shoulder.

"It's a Gryffindor" she sneered at him while the Slytherins behind him laughed mockingly.

Anger spiked within him for a moment as they laughed and he felt his magic respond to the clenching of his fists, and he felt it leave him just as quickly. Only to be replaced by a veil of forced indifference. The dark haired girl standing in the doorway sneered at his blank expression and slammed the door closed and he listened carefully as their laughter and footsteps faded as they traveled further down the train.

He was so tired of people laughing at him. Was it ever going to change? Neville shook his head tiredly as all energy left him and he slouched. Turning to lean his head against the back of his seat he casually lifted his wand to the door and cast a locking charm.

A startling rapsounded on his compartment door and the Train Stewardess yelled that they would be arriving in 20 minutes. Stretching in his seat Neville ran a hand through his dark locks of hair before opening his trunk to change his clothes to those "appropriate for a pureblood of his standing" his Uncle would say. Not that his Uncle cared overly much about blood status, it was status in general that made his Uncle power hungry.

Attempting to straighten his hair one last time as the train whistle blew loudly and slowly came to a halt, it was with a heavy heart that he watched a steward place his trunk on a trolly before he stepped down and off the train. Searching the milling crowd of families and children for his Grandmother, hoping that she was in one of her good moods this time, he was surprised to see Birch standing stoically amongst the crowd waiting for Neville to notice him. As he weaved his way around happy reunions he noticed that many people were starting to stare at his Butler with curiosity. Even the purebloods would glance at him and lean towards each other to whisper quietly. A deep blush appeared on his cheeks as he stopped his trolly and stared up into the calm blue eyes of his friend.

"Young Master Neville," Birch bowed lowly and when he rose his eyes had softened with a small smile. "I trust your trip was pleasant?"

When Birch had started to bow the platform had seemed to hush for a moment before the whispers picked up loudly. It was unusual for a Pureblood Family to have humans as servants. Most considered it to be a mark of wealth to own house elves and while the Longbottom's did have contracts with a few house elf clans, they were not the only species that worked there. A human servant meant two possible things, that the Longbottom's were very wealthy, or that they were very poor.

Although the Longbottom's we're considered one of the sacred twenty-eight pureblood families there were still always those looking to bring down their reputation. Many felt that the Longbottom's we're...odd. He had overheard his Aunt and Uncle talking with his Grandmother once about how the rest of the families were quickly declining in magical power. Each new generation was apparently growing weaker. He had listened at the door for hours before Birch had pulled him away to the gardens.

He was startled out of his thoughts when Birch placed a hand on his shoulder, "You shouldn't pay them any mind Young Master. You are a Longbottom and as such you need not subject yourself to caring about what the gossip mongers have to say. Let your Uncle deal with them." He smiled once more, this time his blue eyes crinkled with mirth and Neville felt a faint smile touch his lips. Birch always knew how to make him feel better.

After taking the arm that Birch offered him they and the trunk disapparated to the receiving hall of Longbottom Manor.

oOo

When they arrived in the receiving hall the Manor was quiet. It was a warm day outside so most of the servants and laborers were out working in the man greenhouses and gardens. Letting Birch take his cloak and trunk Neville rolled up his sleeves and grabbed a pair of the dragon hide gloves that sat in a wicker basket by the door. When Birch returned he too grabbed a pair of gloves and they both made their way towards on the furthest gardens.

"Hey Neville! Welcome home!" A short elf wearing overalls and a straw hat hopped up and down waving, his long ears flopping along with him.

He smiled and waved, "Hey Spit, how are the mandrakes in Greenhouse 12 doing?"

The elf ran up to him and grinned with amusement, "Well, they's have matured a bit since you left for school. Instead of crying and screaming like babies they keep refusing to eat the plant food we give em'." The elf shook its head, "Maybe youse can talk to em' Neville. They'll listen to you."

He looked off towards green house 12 in worry for a moment, "Perhaps I should, I think I'll talk to them on my way back from the Winter Garden." He looked to Birch and and he nodded before taking out a bound parchment book and writing something down with a sharpened piece of coal.

"Youse be goin' to the Winter Garden?" The elfs peculiar tone made him turn around to look at the elf.

"Yes, there were some plants we learned about in herbology this year that I thought would do well in the Winter garden." He examined the elf as it aveted it's eyes to look off towards the house and fingered his overalls nervously.

Spit was never one of the elves who was overly dramatic and if he was nervous that usually meant that something was wrong. Neville kneeled so that he could look Spit in the eye.

"What's going on Spit?"

Watery grey eyes stared into his own for a few moments as if searching for something before the elf looked back towards the Manor, "Master Longbottom has forbidden all workers from speaking about it. But Spit doesn't have to listen if Spit doesn't wants to." The elf shook its head quickly almost slapping Neville with it's ears.

"Of course you don't have to listen Spit." He frowned and placed a hand on the elf's shoulder. Spit turned sad eyes away from the house and back to him. "your family has a long standing contract with mine. Your not bound to us by magic so we can't force you to do anything against your own will. You do have a choice. Now what's going on?"

The elf suddenly launched itself at him and Neville felt Birch place a hand on his back to keep him from toppling over. The elf was sobbing and hugging him tightly and he could feel the tears soaking his skin through his shirt and his throat clenched with worry. What the bloody hell was going on?

Rubbing Spit's back until he had calmed to small hiccoughs the elf wiped his eyes. "A few months before youse went off to school a somes of the sheltered veela workers were cut off from theys monthly allowances. Theys gathered a group and went to ask Master Longbottom about it, but he said that until theys agreed to bind thems to him magically they wouldn't receive a knut from from him."

Neville felt his magic responding to his anger and felt Birch's hand on his back disappear as his magic crackled angrily around him. He took a deep breath through is nose to try and rein it back in. Spit was watching him warily.

In as soft a voice he could manage he asked, "Spit, please continue."

"Wells, after that the veela started strugglings. Somes of the others tried to pitch in an help but Master Longbottom told thems that he would tear up their contracts if theys did. About a week ago the Leader, Arlet, got word that one of the veela had beens… had beens…" Spit shook his head again but this time his brows were furrowed in anger and disgust.

"Had been what?"

"Theys had been….hurt….Theys had bruises everywheres and theys had a split lip and Spit heard Arlet says that the veela told him it was Master Longbottom who beat thems."

He turned to Birch and he nodded before disapparating to go retrieve Artlet from the Veela Quarter.

"What does this have to do with the Winter Garden Spit?"

"Arlet confronted Master Longbottom and tolds him that he would go to the authorities. Master Longbottom dragged Arlet to the Winter Garden for…...punishments."

The elf looked off towards the manor again and Neville turned to look at the house. What was the elf looking at? A curtain in one of the windows was pulled back and his Uncle stepped out onto his office balcony. With an eep! Spit popped away and Neville stood to stare at the distant figure leaning on the terrace rail.

Birch apparated right behind him. "Young Master, you have to come quickly!" and the man grabbed his shoulders with wide fearful eyes and apparated them away.

~Nelui Wysteria~


	2. Chapter Two

Summary:The Longbottom's had a long history of aiding magical beings who were hunted down, maltreated, or just plain persecuted by witches and wizards who thought that they were better than them. So it was for the first Longbottom who swore an unbreakable vow, as it would be for all of her descendants. Neville was tired of being bullied and pushed around, constantly underestimated by everyone around him but he is determined to prove himself. What happens when he discovers a strange being wandering around the abandoned corridors of Hogwarts Castle? How far will the vow of his Ancestor take him? Tom Riddle/Neville Longbottom, Creature Fic!, Dark/Powerful Neville!

Chapter Two

The Winter Garden was the smallest of four seasonal gardens and was blocked from sight by large blue and green conifers and short shrubs that were allowed to over grow during the off season. During the winter the only way to enter and exit the garden was by walking under an archway of carefully grown Crows Foot, beautiful fairy lights, shiny baubles, ribbons, and of course Mistletoe. It was one of Neville's favorite gardens as he often spent time during the year nurturing everything into perfection for the coming Yule. During the off season, however, one could easily apparate to the location since the typical Yuletide enchantments had yet to be set.

Birch transported them into the middle of the garden and Neville stared in horror at what was happening before him. The only thing he could process was the grotesque mixture of blood and feathers before a loud shriek snapped him back to reality with a sickening jolt to his stomach. Veela were lined up side by side and tied to switching posts where enchanted sticks were hitting their backs repeatedly. Others were trapped naked in cages where they were crying and trembling, hunched in on one another in fear. He could see where some of the Veela being lashed had already shifted in anger, their brightly colored feathers giving away their status as dominants of their species. After another shriek a young woman was dragged out of the cage by one of the few working wizards on the estate, her plumage dull in contrast to the vibrancy of the dominants and there were bald bloody patches where her feathers had clearly been plucked out.

A greedy smile twisted the wizards features as he stared hungrily at the young Veela as she struggled, kicked, and screamed someone's name. "Ahmi!"

One of the Veela tied to a post let loose a vicious cry as she struggled to get free of her bonds to save what was clearly her mate.

Neville's magic seeped out of him like a dark fog slowly creeping along the ground before enclosing the entire garden, blocking out the sunlight. Flashes of lightning crackled in the smoky plumes as he lost control of his rage. He could feel it seeping into the ground beneath his feet and into the roots of the trees and plants around him as they bowed towards him as if in anticipation of what was to come. He slowly stepped up onto the transfigured wooden platform, tension making his movements stiff and predatory, and he raised his wand to the sticks as they continued to leave long bruises and bloody welts across the Veela's backs. Without saying a word he reached for the sticks with his magic and jerked his arm down and away, breaking the enchantments on them.

The wizard holding the young woman had stopped trying to drag her off behind some of the trees when the Veela named Ahmi viciously tore free from her bonds and threw herself at him, her taloned hands digging deep gouges into his face and abdomen. A few of the other witches and wizards that had been keeping guard of the cages began to run to his aid, wands held aloft before he twitched his hand and one of the pine's limbs reached out and lifted them into the air.

A soft touch on his shoulder reminded him that Birch was still there, "Young Master, Arlet is over there, we need to get them to safety before your Uncle arrives." Birch pointed towards the only submissive Veela that was tied up. Arlet's tanned back was shredded and his loose skin and flesh was dripping blood onto the platform. His white-blonde hair looked as if it had been cut off with a pair of garden shears. Neville rushed over to him, Birch following not far behind, and they quickly had him laying down and on his stomach.

There's far too much blood! "Spit!" He shouted in panic.. A loud pop had him turning around to look at the usually chipper house elf as their wide eyes took in everything around them before a stormy look clouded their face.

"I need you to grab a blood clotting potion, blood replenishing potion, and some Gilwak from the garden." When the elf continued to glower at the wizards in the tree he snapped, "Spit! I need them NOW!" and the elf popped away.

"These wounds will scar but he should survive." Birch murmured at his side as he used his vest to staunch the blood flow.

"Go! Release the others and take them somewhere safe before my Uncle figures out what's going on. It's only a matter of time. Hurry!" He pushed Birch away from Arlet and took over applying pressure to the wounds. Spit returned with a loud snapping pop and hurriedly poured the blood clotting potion over the wounds. When that was done they gently rolled Arlet over before massaging his throat and pouring the other potion into his mouth. Some of the man's color returned and he didn't look so gray anymore but it was obvious that he needed more medical care. "For now it will have to do. The gilwak will help." He thought to himself as he frowned down at the battered man.

"Did you bring the Gilwak?" He held out his hand knowing the elf wouldn't have forgotten.

"I digs up the freshest roots like youse taught me." The elf nodded and placed a deep purple colored root in his hand. He quickly bit off a piece of the bitter root and chewed until it was mush before placing some inside Arlet's mouth. He didn't have time to grind the root like usual so this would have to do. He rubbed the Veela's throat to get him to swallow.

"The others have been freed and taken to one of your Mother's family estates. You're Uncle won't be able to get to them there." Birch said quietly from over his shoulder.

"Good." He was tired, the magical fog had dissipated and the wizards in the tree had been released only to apparate away. Probably to alert his Uncle. It was as if all the energy had been sapped out of him and it was all he could do to keep his eyes open.

Somewhere in the distance an alarm started to blare loudly across the estate. "Take him to the others. Spit, you go with him. I'll deal with my Uncle." He ignored the intent stares of his butler and elf friend in order to stand and turn. He could feel Birch's eyes boring into him. "I'll return as quickly as possible," and with that they apparated away from the estate. Neville sagged, his exhaustion causing his muscles to tremble weakly. He grasped one of the bloody whipping posts as his head swam.

With a loud crack his Uncle appeared at the edge of the platform his face thunderous with anger. After seeing Neville standing alone in the empty garden he stomped over to him. "What the hell do you think you are doing boy?!" His Uncles face turned red and as he shouted spittle flung from the mans mouth and hit Neville's cheek, but he didn't even flinch from the stench of the man's hot breath or the close proximity of his mustached face in his. He was too tired to react as the man slapped him across the face causing him to stumble into the post as he lost his grip, his hand slipping in the cold and thickening blood. "They're safe now at least." His head swam again as he turned to glare at his Uncle.

When Neville didn't respond right away his Uncle raised his hand and slapped him across the face again and he fell to the ground. He felt so dizzy he thought he was going to vomit. "I am the Head of the Longbottom House and you will answer me boy!!," and the young man could feel his Uncle drawing on the powers granted to the Lord of Longbottom. Neville fought off the urge to grovel at his Head of House's feet and beg for understanding. He would not lower himself before a man who was nothing more than an abuser and a bully! His Uncle lifted his foot and kicked him in the side again and again as he fell onto the bloodstained platform. By this point Neville was nearly unconscious, his vision swam with strange shifting colors and he could have sworn he saw a small creature stare at him open mouthed before running into a tree trunk and disappearing.

When it didn't look like he was going to answer his Uncle grabbed him by the neck and apparated them away. He didn't have time to react before his Uncle threw him to the floor of his office and kicked him into the feet of a wing back chair, a sneer twisted his face. "You think you can disobey me? You?! A boy who is practically a squib?! Perhaps you need a reminder as to your place in this house boy!" His Uncle's mustache twitched as he stared down at him a strange glint in his eye that made his stomach clench uncomfortably. A sudden wave of pain split between his eyes and he felt himself slip into the peaceful void of unconsciousness.

oOo

"The Longbottom's had always provided safe haven for those seeking asylum or a new start. It began several centuries ago with the first Longbottom, Perth, who had been winded by the towns people after her parents death because she had magic. It was a foolish sentiment, winding. The idea came about to ease the guilt of the fearful and so it was said that if a child was left in the woods the wind would come and take them away to a better place. In reality the child was often eaten by the woodland predators, starved to death, or perished by the harsh elements. And so Perth, abandoned in a dale deep in a forest with no name, was found by a cloaked being who took her to its home, raised her, and taught her the ways of magic.

No one really knows what sort of being it was that rescued little baby Perth. The stories and tales passed down for centuries only described them as 'inhuman' and 'a being of great power' that had given Perth her family name, Longbottom. Child of the woodland valley. It was said though, that before the being disappeared Perth swore an unbreakable vow upon her blood, soul, and magic that all of her descendants would do whatever was in their power and ability to provide all beings aid and protection if they should ever need it. And so the first of the Longbottom sanctuaries was built.

As time went by many beings came to live and work on the vast gardens their various estates held and all of which were treated with the utmost respect, compassion, and understanding. Houses were erected on the grounds, funds were set aside, contracts and treaties drawn up, all for the sake of that vow sworn so many centuries ago."

Ragwhip scratched his pale, balding head with long black nailed fingers before rolling up the scroll he was reading, "A Brief History of the House of Longbottom." He had just been appointed the Head Goblin of the Longbottom Family's Gold and Affairs due to the unprecedented death of the previous Goblin, Velock. Apparently Velock had been found in one of the empty surface vaults clutching a bag of rubies, his ears had been cut off before he was cursed to death. An internal investigation was underway regarding the unmarked rubies and the death of Velock was being kept hush, hush, from the Ministry for the time being.

He stared thoughtfully down at the papers before him, his black eyes running over the various documents that had been left on his desk early this morning, one particular document caught his eye and he leaned forward to examine the seal. It was a Goblin seal, his black eyes widened in surprise, and not one he recognized either. Curious he leaned forward hesitantly before licking the seal with a long slimy tongue. The seal sizzled cracked and he unrolled the scroll and began to read quietly aloud.

"By decree of his Royal Majesty Aag the III…." Ragwhip's eyes darted across the scroll before widening. He stood, abruptly knocking his chair to the floor, before rushing out of the room and quickly down the hall to the Magistrates office.

oOo

Neville awoke to soft murmuring and the feeling of a wet cloth being draped over his forehead. He opened his eyes and blinked blearily. "Shh, take it easy love. You're safe with me for now." He turned towards the soft whispering voice and stared confusedly as an elf he had never met before pressed a pale finger to her lips. Looking around him he realized that he was in a cell, the stone floor pressed coldly against his back. When he tried to sit up he heard chains rattle and looked up to see that his hands had been shackled to the floor beside him.

He tried to speak but only managed to rasp, "What happened?" before the elf frowned and wrung out another cloth before pressing it to his lips.

"Drink what you can from this." He sucked the water out of the rag and stared at her curiously. Her gray hair was tied back into a simple bun that highlighted her high cheekbones and pink eyes. Short pointed ears protruded from her head and they looked a lot like house elf ears but… "What are you?" he managed wheeze out before falling into fits of coughing.

"Bain Sídhe, your people would know me as a 'Keening Woman' or Banshee for the common folk." She smiled kindly, wrinkles appearing around her pink eyes, before taking the rag from his head and placing it back into the basin of water. "As for your Uncle…" She stared fixedly at the basin as she swirled the rag in the water.

Neville turned his head to stare at the ceiling. This had happened once before, when he was seven. His Grandmother and Aunt had gone out to town for a planned engagement with some ladies at the local tea shop. He had been left behind with Birch as his minder. At some point he had managed to slip away from Birch and ended up in his Uncle's study playing at the big oak desk and pretending that he was Lord Longbottom. When his Uncle had found him there he had been furious and dragged him to one of the empty cellar rooms and locked him there.

He had cried for hours and hours before Birch had found him. When his Grandmother had asked why he was hiding in the cellars his Uncle had jumped in and claimed that he had probably been playing a game and gotten lost. Even though his Grandmother asked him again later, in private, Neville could never work up the courage to say anything, fearing that his Uncle would find out and do it again. Ever since then he had never been down to the cellars. He still didn't talk about what had happened down here, in the dark and cold.

"Don't worry love, everything is going to be alright." She whispered before gathering the basin of water and standing to leave.

"What's your name?" He felt dead inside, the fear and dread of what was coming was shoved far into the back of his mind, overwhelmed by a biting numbness.

The Banshee turned and glanced back at him. "Mehlda."

"Thank you Mehlda."

She didn't respond and he didn't turn his head when the door of the cellar shut with an echoing clank.

oOo

He slept. His dreams were heavy and thick. It felt like he was swimming through molasses. He knew he was dreaming but he couldn't move his limbs or speak and through his closed eyelids he saw his Uncle towering over him. His button down shirt was undone at the collar, the sleeves rolled up and stained with blood. A hand gripped his hair, yanked it back and a fist hit him in the face again. He didn't feel it. Couldn't feel the way his ribs cracked and broke as something hard was slammed against his side even though he could hear himself screaming. His Uncle was saying something but the words came to him muffled. The man yelled and cast something at him, his wand glowing a sickly yellow color. "The Cruciatus," his mind provided for him.

High, hoarse, screams echoed off the stone walls of the cellar. Faintly he could feel something inside of him shifting. It wasn't pain, no sharp stabbing or stinging ache came to his senses. It was something else. Something, distantly familiar. It spread through him, burning cold, like frost as it kills the flesh. Dimly he could hear his Uncle cancel the curse before moving away out of sight. The feeling continued to envelope him and when it reached his abdomen he felt as if something inside him just...clicked. Like the last piece of a puzzle being set into place.

A door slammed as he came back to himself and he looked up to see that his Uncle had left him. After a while, he couldn't say how long, soft shuffling of feet in the hallway made him lift his head and stare at the door. It was too soon for his Uncle to return. The last time he did this he spent hours in between visits. He had foolishly thought that his Aunt or Grandmother would find him and save him but this time he knew that his Uncle would have taken precautions to keep his absence underwraps. The wooden door slowly creaked open and Neville sighed when his eyes met dark brown.

"Birch" He tried to speak but only a air passed between his lips, he frowned tiredly at the floor and tried again, "Birch!"

The man rushed over to him and started talking, "Your Uncle went out with your Aunt for lunch. He told everyone that you had left to stay with friends from school for a couple of days. I knew he was lying." Panic tightened in his chest and he started saying anything and everything he could think of, but no noise came out other than the faint whisper of air. Birch stared at him wide eyed. He placed a hand on Neville's shoulder where it rested against the floor and pulled him into a tight hug. When a voice echoed down the hallway Neville felt Birch tense in his arms before relaxing. Looking at him curiously Birch smiled, "I had a friend make sure to grab the keys when Master Longbottom was distracted."

He looked towards the door and Neville followed his movements and let out a faint smile when he saw Spit rush through the door grinning broadly, his long ears flapping with his bouncy stride. He was holding up a pair of keys that glinted in the dim torchlight. Birch looked back at him, "Time to go."

 _~Nelui Wysteria~_

 _Note: Constructive critiques, grammar corrections, and writing tips are very much welcome and help me improve not only the writing but also the story._


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Neville's head rocked back and forth as he was carried, the sound of softly whispering voices fading in and out. Brief flashes of Birch's worried face calling his name faded as he succumbed to the darkness creeping at the edges of his vision.

"Master Neville?" Birch tried to get the young heir to focus on him once more time but the boy had fainted dead away in his arms.

"What are we's going to do?" Spit asked softly as he stared at Neville's limp body draped across the Butler's arms. They had just arrived at the estate when the young heir had passed out. The elf's usually perky ears had sunk down to his shoulders and his normally cheerful manner was replaced by wide worried eyes and fidgety hands.

Birch looked down at the young man in his arms and felt the panic try to fight its way to the surface again. " _Panic is a symptom not an alarm,"_ he reminded himself quickly before the useless emotion managed to overtake him. The poor child had been through so much over the years with his grandmother going senile, his uncle working to circumvent his claim to the Longbottom Lordship, his parents confined to the Janus Thickey Ward at Saint Mungo's with no hope of recovery in the future, and now this. He stared at the pale heavily bruised face of his future lord and master and felt his chest grow tight. It was his duty to serve and protect the Lords of Longbottom whomever they would be, he was bound by blood, soul, and magic to do so, to disobey or to act against those duties was to suffer the backlash of magic induced pain in payment for his failure. He could feel the magic crackling against his skin even now for having acted against the will of Lord Longbottom. Even though he secreted the young heir away without the Lord's knowledge the oath still punished him, knowing through magic what the Lord Longbottom could not.

"We have to get him to a healer and to bed" Birch looked up as the Veela woman from the garden approached him. Ahmi, his mind supplied as he recalled the young traumatized veela calling out her name. He noticed that her wounds had already been wrapped with linen and a long scar on the side of her neck was raw and red from having been recently healed. Her bright blue feathers were still extended in agitation and ruffled every now and again as if to shake off the rage that afflicted most of her species. He nodded to her and she turned away from the entrance hall towards a nearby room bustling with noise. As they entered, the room grew suddenly still and quiet as eyes stared at the young heir in his arms with unreadable expressions. There were veela half wrapped in bandages laying in makeshift transfigured beds and piles of cushions on the floor as they were tended by the uninjured veela that had been rushing around the room. A few of the unmated Dominants were standing, huddled in a corner, the feathers along their neck and arms extended and their bodies tense with rage at the harm done to their people. "Especially the submissives," he thought to himself as Ahmi led him to an empty bed. He gently lowered the boy to the sheet covered couch and adjusted the pillows under the young heirs head into a more comfortable position before stepping back and staring at the softly breathing form of his future Lord. Soon noise began to pick up again as other occupants of the room began to bustle about and whispering. But the noise was hushed and much quieter than it was before, Birch noted in brief curiosity. He looked up as another Veela approached, her dull brown and white feathers resting calmly against her skin as her gold eyes examined the young heir critically.

"Lys, is our best healer. She will tend to him." The young veela that had called out to Ahmi earlier stepped forward holding a bowl of water against her hips and fresh rags draped over her arm. He stepped back as he watched her dip her hand in the water and whisper quietly in french, or at least what he presumed as French, not much was known about the magic of Veela as they weren't very trusting of outsiders. As the water began to glow a bright yellow she quickly took a cloth into her taloned hand and dipped it in before wringing it out and began carefully wiping over the blood and bruising on the young heir's face. Slowly, with each pass of the magic saturated cloth the bruise began to fade. Lys continued to whisper periodically to the water as she replaced her bloody rag with another clean one.

"No! We have to take care of it! It's our job to take care of it!" Birch looked up at the commotion and studied the group of Veela Dominants at the back of the room. It looked like a heated discussion as one of the shorter Dominants whispered furiously into the taller one's reddening face. The pale green feathers on the back of the tall one began to shake furiously and two of the group shifted to stand behind him as he shoved the shorter one back and turned angrily.

"Looks like trouble," Ahmi said as she turned and whispered into Lys's ear. The young Veela nodded and kissed Ahmi's cheek before picking up her bowl and hurrying away. Ahmi turned her green-gold eyes towards the tall Veela at the back of the room. "That's Tyrian. He is one of the more temperamental Dominants of our eyrie. He has yet to prove himself to anyone yet so he over compensates." Ahmi looked him up and down briefly as if taking his measure before nodding towards his wand holster. "You're going to need that."

Before he could respond, however, Tyrian shouted, "YOU!," his rigid finger pointing in Birch's direction. Tyrian and the three Veela began making their way towards him often shoving healers and patients alike to the side to reach him that much faster.

"Move!" He shouted at one of the patients laying on a pile of pillows but all the young submissive did was stare up at him in shock before Tryian reached down angrily and roughly picked the boy up and shoved him aside into a table. The boy stumbled and fell back and knocked his head as he lost his balance.

Birch's dark eyes narrowed as he watched the submissive pull a bloodied hand from the back of his head. He drew his wand as his vest was suddenly grabbed by a taloned fist. "You shouldn't be here human!" Tyrian growled and spat the word human as if trying to remove a bad taste from his mouth. "You and your kind, you think you own us, that your better than us. This is all your Master's fault!" Tyrian's yellow eyes glinted menacingly as he pulled back his fist. Fire erupted around his hand and before Birch could react sharp stinging pain erupted across his face. The smell of burnt flesh reached his nose as he quickly raised his wand and cast a shield spell that might work to keep the Veela away. Most shield spells couldn't block Veela Fire but they could at least keep the attacker from physically assaulting you, dominant Veela were dangerous in close quarters since they

Birch fell to the floor to dodge an oncoming fireball as it passed through the shield. The glowing dome rippled and blinked briefly as it struggled under the onslaught of Veela magic. It wouldn't hold for much longer, he thought as the fire crashed into the hutch behind him with a loud bang, wood and porcelain flew everywhere and he covered his face as splinters and glass rained down on him. He looked up just as another fireball flew past his head taking out a side table. Before Tyrian could throw another he raised his wand angrily, the light at the tip began to glow red with his nonverbal disarming spell. It was bad form for a dominant of any species to hurt those they proclaimed to protect. Seeing that young boy injured simply because of a sense of misplaced anger and pride had made his heart clench painfully as he recalled the many times we was forced to witness Lord Longbottom dealing out punishment to the various beings under his so-called "care." So many times he had watched in forced servitude and silence as the Lord used his power and authority to abuse those he saw as beneath him. So many times he had been helpless to do anything but observe and remember. He was so very tired of doing nothing. Perhaps, it was time to do _something_ , starting with teaching this Veela a lesson in decorum- amongst other things.

As his spell hit the Veela in the chest, causing him to lose control over the ball of fire in his fist, the two other Veela who had stood by Tyrian's side as he argued stepped forward menacingly each with a fireball in hand. Birch raised his wand, his shield could barely hold up against the pressure of one Veela pressing against its walls and throwing fire, he very much doubted it would be able to stand up to two.

"Enough," all the Veela in the room seemed to freeze in place at the softly spoken command. Birch turned towards the voice and saw that Arlet was finally awake with a bandage wrapped around his head and most of his upper torso. Lys was standing at his side with one amber glowing hand resting on his shoulder. "Feeding him her magic and strength most likely," he thought to himself.

The effects of the command seemed to have worn off when the occupants of the room breathed a sigh of relief and shifted restlessly. "Arlet, you should let me finish this human off! You were unconscious you don't even know what happened! What they did to us! To you!" Tyrian shouted as he took a menacing step towards Birch once again. Birch's wand hand twitched as he tried to suppress the anger that seemed to have taken over his good senses. What had he been thinking?

"I said...ENOUGH!" Arlet began once more in his calm voice but as Tyrian took another step towards Birch and ignored his leader Arlet finished with an eagle like shriek that made Birch wince in pain. When he opened his eyes again they widened at the sight of Arlet's talons grasping the punctured neck of a gasping Tyrian as he struggled against the wall. He had clearly been slammed into it with great force as behind him the wall had cracked and a few pieces of plaster had fallen into his hair from the body shaped indentation around him. "We are _guests_ in this home. I am aware of Mr. Birch's role in the events that recently took place, just as I am aware of the roles of Mr. Longbottom and the Elf called Spit. We have been offered sanctuary and until Mr. Longbottom recovers so that I may discuss the situation with him you will cease all acts of aggression and hostility or I will banish you from my ayrie. Do you understand, Tyrian?" He hissed through clenched teeth and let go of the no longer struggling Veela. "I said, do. You. Understand me?" Arlet's glacial gaze held the eyes of Tyrian as he rubbed at his neck. "I understand," he rasped out, wincing as the words formed from his bruised throat. Arlet stepped back and seemed to swoon a bit and Birch stepped forward to steady him before he could fall. "Thank you," Birch briefly noted that Arlet's voice had gone back to its soft tone before he responded with a genuine smile, "You are more than welcome. You should lie back down though, some of your bandages are bleeding." Arlet and Birch both looked down and surely enough a large blossom of blood was seeping through the linen.

Guiding the Veela leader over to the pile of pillows that had been his bed he handed him over to Lys and she took over his care once more and set about replacing the bandages. Birch located water nearby and poured a glass before offering it to Arlet who drank it gratefully. "And how is Mr. Longbottom doing?" He inquired towards Lys as she wrapped new linen around him. "His superficial wounds have been healed but there were several broken bones that have been cursed to prevent healing, along with extreme magical exhaustion," Lys kept her gaze on her hands as they moved to gather the bloodied rags and bandages into an empty bowl. "He has suffered a great deal. There is one thing though." Birch looked off towards the sleeping form of the young heir with sorrow but at that last he quickly turned his attention back to the young Veela. Arlet pat her hand encouragingly, "What is it Lys?" The girl shifted from foot to food before sighing, "I think he may have been drugged as well. The magic I used to try and mend his bones should have left him screaming in pain especially with the curse on them, but he didn't even so much as twitch the whole time," she wrung her hands anxiously.

Arlet looked off towards the young heir and Birch grit his teeth in anger and frustration. It was his duty to protect those of the longbottom line but how could he do that when the Lord of the House was the threat. The pain in his chest tightened again and he couldn't help but hiss out in pain as the magic doubled its punishment for failing his duty. "Are you alright?" Arlet asked his narrowed eyes surveying him for any hidden injuries. "No." He bit out, "To be perfectly honest I am not alright but that can wait for the time being. We have some things to discuss in the meantime. Before that though, I will retrieve a healer to tend to the young heirs wounds," His dark eyes surveyed the room before they landed on the elf who had apparently settled himself on a chair by the young heirs sleeping form. "Spit!" He called out and the young elf looked up startled from his thoughtful observation of his friend.

Spit wiggled out of the winged chair he had been sitting in and picked his way through the injured Veela to reach Birch. "Misters Birch," the elf spoke quietly, more subdued than the butler had ever seen him. "I need to retrieve a healer for the you-" he coughed into his hand uncomfortable with the the narrow eyed look the elf just gave him, he suddenly recalled all the times that the young heir had insisted that he call him by name rather than title. "I mean, for Master Neville." The elf didn't smile but his eyes did soften before he started nodding his head, his pointy ears flopping back and forth. "I need you to be host while I am away making arrangements, I would like for someone familiar to be around in case he wakes up. Can you do that?" The elf looked back over his shoulder towards the young heir and nodded. "Yes Misters Birch. Spit cans be doing that." Birch smiled at the young elf before turning back towards Arlet. "If you need to reach me for any reason at all just ask Spit to find me, I'll be back as soon as I can," and with a soft pop he apparated back to Longbottom Manor.

oOo

The Manor was eerily quiet. The Lord and Lady Longbottom were still absent, most likely still enjoying their day out on the town, and the young heir's grandmother, having been placed at Saint Mungo's due to her failing memory, was also absent leaving the house unusually still. He hadn't even had the chance to inform the heir yet, about his grandmother. With all of the events since he had arrived home from school there hadn't been time. Or at least, not the _right_ time he corrected. Originally he had planned to inform the young heir as soon as they arrived but he had looked so morose coming off the train that he hadn't had the heart to let life trod on his charge some more. Happiness was fleeting for the youngest Longbottom.

Birch walked through the corridor towards Lord Longbottoms office, his shoes clacking against the mahogany floor boards. The tension in his chest had eased slightly with his return to the manor but he knew that the moment he left it would return. He approached the double doors of the Lord's office and pressed his left palm against a brass plate above the handle. He felt his hand grow warm for a moment before a loud click resounded down the empty corridor. After he entered he looked around the room at the various shelves of books and random objects and the large windows draped with heavy fabric. A carved oak desk and chair sat facing towards an ornate roaring fireplace. His dark eyes studied the room for a moment as memories of Lord Longbottoms cruelty caused his stomach to roil in disgust. He shook his head to clear the sound of screams and laughter away and strode towards the desk. "There should be a contact book somewhere in here…" He thought aloud to himself as he rummaged through the drawers. "Ah!" he exclaimed and pulled a small leather bound book out from underneath a pile of papers. "This should help me locate a decent healer we can trust," he smiled down at the small book before casting a duplication spell on it. It wouldn't do for him to take the book and alert Lord Longbottom to who had taken it.

His bond to the Longbottoms allowed for his interpretation of "helping" and "protecting" of the Longbottom Family, within reason, but even he knew that only a few people had access to the Lord's office. It would have been highly suspect if the book had gone missing along with the young heir and while Lord Longbottom was cruel he was also smart. It wouldn't have taken him very long to figure out who exactly it was that had taken it. Duplicate in hand he quickly put the original back where he found it and shrunk the copy so it would fit into his inner vest pocket.

"Dong, Dong, Donggggg!" He looked up at the sound of the bell that alerted staff that there was someone at the door. He sighed, not even back five minutes and already he was being delayed. Sometimes he wondered what his family had been thinking, binding themselves into servitude. Taking a deep breath and running a hand through his dark brown locks to straighten them he opened the door. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of two Goblins, both finely dressed, standing on the step. "We seek an audience with the Lord of the Longbottom Estates, it is a matter of utmost importance," the first Goblin said as he stared imperiously up at him his wide grin sharp with pointed teeth. "Lord Longbottom is unavailable at the moment, perhaps you would like to schedule a time to see him?" he inquired as he studied the two before him carefully. Goblins were not to be trifled with. "And to whom are we speaking with presently?" the first Goblin began to study him just as closely. "I am Hargrave, Birch. Bound blood, magic, and soul servant to the Longbottom Family," Birch bowed formally, hand against his stomach as he introduced himself by the proper descriptors. The second Goblin leaned close to the first and whispered something before nodding towards him. The first just stared at him before proclaiming, "As a servant bound by magic you are legally allowed to audience on behalf of the Longbottom Family. May we enter?"

His eyes widened for a brief moment before he schooled his face into a mask of polite indifference. It wasn't unusual for a bound servant to take messages or sit in on conferences with the Lord of the Estate. It was however unusual for one to act on behalf of the Family they served. He hadn't been aware that his oath gave him any legal rights regarding the Family. Perhaps, this could work in the young heirs favor… "Please be welcome," he gestured into the manor and closed the door quickly behind them before any of the many beings (and unbeings) noticed their presence. "If you will follow me, we can discuss your business with the Longbottom Family in a more comfortable setting." He tried to recall as much as he could about Goblins. There weren't any that he was aware of on the Estate or Gardens so he didn't have much experience dealing with this species. He had never even been to Gringotts as he wasn't a paid servant and all of his needs were provided for by the contract his family had made with the Longbottoms many years ago. He vaguely recalled reading a book once that mentioned Goblins had an intolerance to light but also prefered warm places. He studied the doors as they passed them trying to decide which room would be the best setting for a Goblin guest. He finally stopped at one of the smaller, less ornate rooms that used to be a study for a now deceased Longbottom ancestor. It was charmed to be the same temperature throughout the year and a large heart took up most of the wall at the back. A few wingback chairs sat facing each other before the hearth accompanied by a long coffee table that sat between them. The best part about the room however was the lack of windows. The room most likely had been made to accomodate a vampyre gest who had sheltered with the Longbottoms before his time although there hadn't been a Vampyre seeking sanctuary for about 300 years if he recalled correctly.

"Please excuse me a moment while I speak with the staff about refreshments," and he bowed once more to the Goblins as they took their seats and began whispering to one another. As he closed the door he quickly pressed his hand the door and cast a privacy ward around the room. The last thing he needed was for Lord Longbottom to have one of his brown nosing spies tell him all about this. "Piper," he called quietly knowing the elder elf would hear him regardless. He looked up as a greying elf appeared before him neatly attired in slacks and a white button down shirt. "How can Piper help you Sir." Birch smiled down that the elf. Piper was one of his closest friends and confidants. Most of the Longbottom elves were his friends, but Piper was by far his favorite. "Piper, my old friend, I have a favor to ask of you." The elf just clasped her hands behind her back and waited patiently. "I need you to gather refreshments, without anyone's knowledge, for our Goblin guests. I presume you know the dietary requirements of Goblins?" he waited for her to nod like he knew she would, Piper was the most educated Elf he had ever met, even arguably the brightest _being_ he had ever met. There was rarely a thing that she _didn't_ know. "Depending on how this meeting goes I may also need you to rally the elves," he flushed uncomfortably as she narrowed her large eyes at him. "And what is Sir needing the Elves for?" He shifted nervously and fiddled with his shirt sleeves. "To help the young heir?" he coughed uncomfortably as the Elf continued her unwavering stare. At last she nodded her head and said, "We will see," before disappearing off to gather refreshments.

Birch breathed another sigh of relief. Today's events were quickly wearing on him. First the Veela and now Goblins. Taking a few more deep breaths to steady his nerves he knocked politely to announce his presence before entering the room. The wards sparkled for a moment before disappearing. The Goblins sat in their respective seats beside each other and Birch took the one opposite them. "Refreshments should be here shortly. How may I help you today Master…" he trailed off allowing for the Goblins to introduce themselves. "I am Ragwhip, Head Goblin of the Longbottom Family Accounts and Affairs," Birch nodded at the first Goblin as he gestured towards himself and looked towards the second. "And this is Grimlock, Head of Accounts and Affairs for his Royal Majesty, Aag the Sixth." He nodded respectfully towards the second Goblin who bowed his head in turn.

"We are here to discuss some things that have recently come to our attention. One of which is the questionable death of the previous Head Goblin of the Longbottom Accounts and Affairs," Ragwhip informed him before turning towards the other Goblin. Grimlock's penetrating gaze did not waver from Birch as he reached up and seemingly pulled a scroll out of thin air. "The other business we wish to discuss is the reading of Frank and Alice Longbottom's Last Will and Testament," Grimlock continued. Birch frowned and held up a hand to stop the Goblin from going further, "I apologize for my confusion but hasn't the will already been taken care of? I was informed by Lord Longbottom that Frank and Alice had left a few items to his care, nothing more than that." Grimlock and Ragwhip looked at one another significantly, "The Will we speak of was written shortly before their deaths," he paused, "with the direct instruction not to allow the current Lord Longbottom or the Head Goblin at that time any knowledge of its existence until the exact date stated."

Well that didn't make any sense. He recalled the day that Lord Longbottom had been summoned to Gringotts to hear the Will. He had left in a foul mood but returned, quiet, almost contemplative. It had been as if he had come across something that weighed heavily on his mind. Birch hadn't inquired at the time, thinking that it was merely the Lord finally finding some peace at the deaths of his nephew and his wife. "There _is_ more." Grimlock leaned forward on his seat and held the scroll out to him. "More?" Birch could feel a migraine beginning to pound painfully at the back of his neck. He reached across the table and broke the seal with his wand.

" _By decree of his royal majesty Aag the Third, Franklin Longbottom and Alice Longbottom nee Selwyn are declared to be under the protection of the Goblin Nation and its citizens. His royal majesty wishes it to be known that the Goblin Nation considers Franklin Longbottom and Alice Longbottom nee Selwyn and their descendants to be allies of the Goblin Nation until such a time as their line ends."_

His hands shook as his dark eyes stared at the Goblins dumbly. If Frank and Alice were under the protection of the Goblins then... So was Master Neville. This could work. Lord Longbottom couldn't possibly interfere if the young heir sought asylum with them. I was completely unheard of. Never, to his knowledge, had a wizard been granted such favor by the Goblins. They were reclusive to the point of being isolationists. Beyond their minimal involvement with the wizarding populace and the management of their gold Goblins were, well, nonexistent.

"After some research in our archives we have discovered the circumstances of this decree to be directly associated with their Last Will and Testament." Grimlock bowed and shook his head as if even he found it hard to understand. Birch cleared his throat, carefully rolled the scroll, and handed it back to Grimlock's dark scaled hand. He sat back thoughtfully in his chair as he contemplated this new information. It wasn't safe for the young heir anymore and should he return to the manor he feared the Lord would only grow more hostile. The echo screams and pleads for mercy clouded his head for a minute, dragging him back to his bad memories. He shook his head as if to shake them them away. It was decided then. "Master Grimlock, Master Ragwhip," he waited as the two Goblins black eyes turned back to him, they had been whispering quietly as they allowed him to think. "I am afraid I must do something a bit….unorthodox. I had planned to seek your help before this information came to light but I think after learning of this decree and the second Will things will go much more smoothly than I anticipated." The Goblins eyes narrowed in the suspicion their species was known for. He shifted in his seat restlessly. Lets just hope that this works, he thought to himself ruefully. "As a servant of blood, magic, and soul to the Longbottom Family, I, Birch Hargrave, ask for sanctuary on behalf of Heir Neville Longbottom, the only son of Franklin Longbottom and Alice Longbottom nee Selwyn." As soon as he started to speak the Goblins stood from their seats, wide eyed. When he finished speaking the ritual words he could feel the magic in his chest tighten to the point where is vision blurred in pain. He gripped the arms of his chair tightly as Grimlock stepped forward, the first to compose himself as Ragwhip seemed to still be frozen in shock. "On behalf of his royal majesty, King Aag the Sixth, and the entirety of the Goblin Nation, I Master Grimlock, Head Goblin of the Kings Accounts and Affairs, grant Heir Neville Longbottom, son of Franklin Longbottom and Alice Longbottom nee Selwyn, protected allies of the Goblin Nation, sanctuary." Finally having gathered his senses Ragwhip stepped forward as well, "It is witnessed."

oOo

 _Note to Reader: This chapter and previous chapters are still subject to editing._

 _~Nelui Wysteria~_


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